


In a Darkened Room

by socknonny



Series: The Spaces In Between [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anger Management, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Catharsis, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Hawkins National Laboratory, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 20:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15648042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socknonny/pseuds/socknonny
Summary: It's illogical, but Steve knows something is off about Billy today. He just knows it, and his heart is screaming danger.





	In a Darkened Room

**Author's Note:**

> Probably makes more sense if you read the other two first! But I don't think it's essential?

Billy took the news of the Upside Down remarkably well. He only swore eighteen times, kicked the ground twice, and punched one single thing. And the thing he punched wasn’t Steve; it was the tree behind them, right when Steve was telling him about the men at the lab and how they’d refused to believe Will was in trouble again. 

Which was a little odd, Steve had to admit. He’d thought that Billy would lose his shit over the danger, or the threat hovering over Hawkins, or any of the real, literal monsters Steve was describing to him. But he remained silent through all of that, attentive and focused. It was only when Steve began to explain how cold and manipulative the men were at the lab that Billy’s eyes glazed over and he began to pace, finishing on a brutal punch to the back of the tree that left his knuckles grazed and bleeding.

When Steve finally finished explaining why the darkness terrified him, and would always terrify him from now until the day he died, Billy just stared at him. 

After several moments, he cleared his throat, eyes sliding to the side, and muttered, “Fucking Hawkins.”

And that was that.

It was only after they’d parted ways that Steve realized Billy never once asked him if he was making it up. He’d never once questioned all the strange things Steve was saying; he’d just accepted them as fact. 

Now more than ever, Steve was sure that somewhere between the letters and the walks and the conversations, the two of them had developed a sort of trust. He couldn’t help but think maybe that was the strangest thing of all.

 

*

 

Steve stared at the letter in his hand. It was a hastily scribbled note, the writing familiar enough to him now that Billy didn’t even bother to sign his name. 

_ Can’t meet tonight. Don’t wait for me. _

It was… weird. Sure, they’d talked about meeting and picking their way along the tracks again, trying to find the right spot to break down to the river or something, but it hadn’t been set in stone. Billy would only have needed to catch Steve’s eye across the room and shake his head for it to be cancelled, such was the level of communication the two of them had reached. 

So why had he left Steve a note? And why had he reiterated the message twice? It was like he was trying extra hard to make sure Steve didn’t wait for him.

Or follow him.

Steve crumpled the note and shoved it into his back pocket. He took a second to lean against his locker, hidden by the open door, and just  _ think _ . What was he missing? Billy had seemed off lately—a little too quick to brush Steve away or make excuses to skip out of their meeting. It was like he was on edge again, the same way he’d been when he first moved here and less like the person he’d become in the last few weeks. 

Steve was realizing more and more just how different that person was. The fact that no one else seemed to notice was a little depressing, but at the same time it made Steve feel special. Like he was privy to a piece of Billy Hargrove that no one else had earned.

Could he still say he’d earned it if he left Billy alone right now? Because as much as Steve believed in a person’s right to privacy, something inside him was screaming  _ danger _ . Every nerve was on edge, standing to attention, and the thought of something happening to Billy made him want to throw up.

He supposed that answered it for him, really. And if it turned out that Billy just needed space, Steve would turn right around and leave. Decision made, he shut his locker and left the building. 

He meant to find Billy and talk to him, but it turned out he’d spent so long thinking it over at his locker that Billy was already peeling out of the parking lot by the time Steve reached his car. 

“Goddammit,” he swore, throwing his things onto the passenger seat and slamming the Beemer into reverse. 

At least he didn’t have to pick up the kids today, but it was a small mercy because now he had no choice but to chase Billy across half of Hawkins. And damn did Billy drive like a maniac. Unwilling to give up, Steve tore after him. He managed to keep him in sight for a good fifteen minutes, even though there were several cars between them, but then Steve got caught at the lights and the Camaro rounded a corner and out of sight. 

“ _ Shit. _ ” Steve thumped the steering wheel and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

What should he do now? The way Billy had been driving, the strange path he’d taken, and the fact that they were now on the outskirts of town all added up to make Steve feel like he really, really needed to follow him… But he had no idea where Billy was going. 

A thought slowly crept into his mind. But surely not… His skin began to prickle and it felt like sweat broke out across the back of his neck. Regardless of how logical he was trying to be, it was clear he didn’t really believe his own assurances. And once he acknowledged that, he couldn’t push the thought from his mind no matter how hard he tried. 

When the lights changed, he tore down the street toward the forest road he knew led to Hawkins Lab.

The shadows seemed longer out here, even though there was still several hours of daylight left. The further Steve drove along the path, the higher his anxiety climbed until his left knee was jiggling uncontrollably. His hair was already a mess from the number of times he’d run his fingers through it, and all he could think was  _ what if the Gate was open again?  _ What if they got Billy? 

Part of Steve was laughing hysterically at that, because why should he care? I mean, really, the guy had beaten him to a pulp and acted like a Grade A asshole to his friends, but Steve knew deep down that it no longer mattered. The world seemed different when it was just the two of them. It felt whole, or like maybe he was whole in it for once, and some part of him—some crazy, nonsensical, surely irrational part—felt like if he lost Billy, he’d lose the real world too. 

He shoved his foot to the floor and drove. When he reached the abandoned lab and saw the Camaro parked sideways in front of the entry, his blood ran cold. 

He barely even remembered parking the car, couldn’t recall running inside or calling out Billy’s name without even caring who or what heard him so long as he wasn’t too late. He was just about to lose it, his adrenaline kicked so far into fight mode that he was already looking for a broom or something that he could snap in two to use as a weapon, when he felt a hand grab hold of his shoulder. 

He spun around to see Billy standing right beside him, eyes wide and startled and so very, very blue, and Steve froze still in relief. For several seconds he couldn’t speak, and Billy just stared at him, then out at his car parked half a foot from the door, then back at him again. 

“Jesus, man.” Billy’s voice was soft, shaky with something Steve had never heard before. “You weren’t meant to follow me. What the hell?” 

“I knew something was wrong. I knew you were off,” Steve said, heart racing as he slowly forced his body to understand that they weren’t in danger. 

Not yet, anyway. The foyer was cold and empty, and it echoed like it was far bigger than it was. Now that his brain was starting to work again, he could recall that there had been signs of a fire from outside—scorched windows and blackened paint. He wondered if kids had broken into the place, or if the fire he’d lit in the tunnels had somehow burst through when El closed the Gate, if between the two of them they’d torched this place from the inside out. 

“I was off?” Billy repeated, looking at him strangely. His voice still shook but it was steadier now. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Steve shrugged. “You really didn’t want me to follow. And I—” He broke off, trying to sort through his own thoughts. “If you wanted space, you’d have just told me. Actually, anything—if it was anything, you would have just told me. Which meant it had to be something bad. You had to be doing something I wouldn’t want you to do.”

Billy’s mouth dropped open, just a little, and despite the fear that still coursed through Steve—the utter inappropriateness of the timing—in that moment his mind was flooded with the vivid image of taking that bottom lip between his teeth and sucking it. 

Billy opened and closed his mouth several times, but he seemed unable to respond. Steve could feel a flush of embarrassment rising on his cheek, so he turned away before Billy noticed. 

“So why are you here anyway?” he asked, staring at the closed doors covered in blood.

He knew whose blood it was, and he couldn’t look away. 

“I had to see it.” Billy’s voice sounded distant. “It’s… I mean they’re all the same, aren’t they?”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he turned back to face Billy but didn’t interrupt. Billy’s face was twisted in an expression Steve couldn’t read, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. The fierce machismo that so defined him was still there—would probably never truly leave—but it was muted, like he was wilting at the edges.

“All this government shit, it’s all the same. Whether it’s child services or fucking inter-dimensional border control—it’s all the same.”

Slowly, Steve began to understand. Billy kept talking. 

“They took me away for a while. Think there was too much booze in the house, or they got a whiff of something worse. I don’t know. They took me away and it looked like this.” His restless hands had found his pack of cigarettes, and he lit one carefully before chucking the pack to Steve. “How do they do it?” 

Their eyes met, and for a second the Upside Down seemed like the most normal thing in the world, because surely nothing could be stranger than seeing Billy cry. 

“Do what?” Steve asked quietly, fumbling for a cigarette and finally lighting it on the third try. 

There was silence for a while as Billy searched for the words, wiping his eyes roughly before he spoke again. “You said they didn’t listen to the Byers kid? But he was scared, right? I’ve seen him; looks like a goddamn mouse half the time. Ready to bolt. And they ignored it. And before that, they would’ve known what that kid was going through when he was trapped down there, and they lied to his mom. Lied to everyone.” He waved a hand at the sterile walls, the reception desk, the dying plant in the corner. “How can they see all that, know all that, and still look like this? It’s evil. It’s evil and it looks like a fucking office building. Like a charity building or a telemarketing office.” 

Steve stared at the desk and felt hollow. Billy was right, though he’d never thought about it like that. Knowing what happened here, the place should look so different. It should look like hell. The walls should be torched and burnt, the people disfigured, the floors should ooze blood, and yet it only looked like that now because they had destroyed it and the evil was gone.

Billy turned suddenly to Steve. “You know what they call that Byers kid, right?”

Steve’s stomach sank. “Yeah, I know.”

Billy nodded and turned back to face the bloody doors. When he spoke again, he sounded tired, and it was that more than anything that made the surreality of those last few minutes seem real. “Why does it matter?” 

Steve knew what he meant, and he didn’t know the answer. “It shouldn’t,” he said instead. 

Billy took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke up toward the ceiling. “No,” he agreed. “It should matter to us, because it’s ours and we get choose what’s important. But it shouldn’t matter to them. It’s nothing to do with them.”

The entire time he’d been standing here, Steve had been searching for some string of logic that tied everything together, that explained why Billy was standing in the middle of Hawkins fucking lab, talking about evil and governments and being queer, but he realized suddenly that there wasn’t one. There were no words to explain why Billy had been compelled to come here, and yet Steve understood it all the same. It was a feeling that had drawn Billy here. A feeling born from childhood demons, from shame and fear and  _ anger _ , and—most of all—from a need to find some way to take that feeling and turn it into something tangible. 

Steve used to think the spaces between logic had no meaning; now he wondered if they were the only spaces that had any meaning at all.

He stopped looking for answers and listened to his gut. “Want to smash something?” 

Billy blinked in surprise before a slow grin spread across his face. “Harrington, you rebel.” 

Before Steve could react, Billy picked up the broken chair lying by his feet and threw it straight through the front window. 

Steve ducked and covered his head. “Holy shit! I meant like, somewhere else—” He broke off. “Ah, what the hell, no I didn’t.” 

He scanned the room, his eyes landing on the open closet and scattered brooms he’d considered before. Crossing the distance in two strides, he picked up the closest one and clubbed it as hard as he could against a pillar. It snapped clean in two as Billy whooped from behind him, and in a few seconds, Steve was laying into the pristine desk with heavy blows. 

It felt religious. As if with every part of this place he destroyed, he took a piece of their lies with it. He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t even change the future because it would surely happen again, but he could change this. Now. He could destroy the mask and reduce this place to what it really was.

The sound of glass shattering and Billy whooping came from behind him, but he didn’t turn around until the broom handle was utterly destroyed, unable to inflict any more damage on the desk or the items on it. When he finally stopped, his chest was heaving and he felt like a weight had been lifted clean away from him. 

Billy crossed the room and stood in front of him, and it was like the air turned suddenly electric. Billy’s hair was a mess, swept back from his face in tangles, and his eyes were bright with a fire Steve had never seen before. He wondered if he could count how many new sides of Billy he’d seen today, or if the lines separating all the parts were too blurred. Seeing Billy cry had shocked Steve out of his own skin, but it had just as quickly become a part of the truth, melding solidly into the side of Billy that raged against injustice, and then into side that felt hope—the side Steve was looking at right now. 

The image of kissing Billy slammed into him again, and he thought that if he did it, Billy might actually let him. But it wasn’t the right place. Not the right time. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Billy murmured, flicking a glance to the doors. “Don’t want those monsters coming back.”

For the first time, it occurred to Steve that maybe the monsters were gone for good.

They left the lab, tearing away in their separate cars while the sun set behind them. In unspoken agreement, they met back at the school parking lot, just as the sun disappeared. 

Steve crossed the space between them and leaned in Billy’s open window, noting the way Billy seemed oddly unsure and hesitant. 

“I can’t stay out, Harrington.” There was regret in his voice, but also relief. 

“I know.” 

Billy looked at him. “Look, I haven’t… all this time we’ve spent together. They haven’t been dates. You know that, right?” 

Steve’s lip twitched into a smile; he couldn’t help it. “Yeah, I know.”

“Two gay guys can just be friends. I had loads of queer friends back in Cali. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“I agree. And I’m bi, not gay. But go on.”

The air sizzled between them. Billy’s eyes cut to his, and he seemed to stop breathing. Steve’s chest tightened, his stomach fluttering nervously. He fought to stay still, to keep from letting any of his feelings show on his face and ruin this before Billy could make his own decision. 

“Ah, fuck it,” Billy snapped, and with a faint sound that was almost a moan, he reached out to grab Steve by the back of his neck and draw him into a kiss. 

The scent of cologne mingled with the taste of cigarettes, and Steve groaned into Billy’s mouth shamelessly—something he’d never done with a girl. He fell halfway through the window, both pulled by the strength of Billy’s grasp and eager to get as close as he could, to savor this for the few seconds they had left before safety demanded they stop. He grabbed hold of Billy’s collar, twisting the fabric beneath his fingers and pulling him closer, as if he could somehow merge the two of them together so that they never had to walk away from each other. 

Billy whimpered and deepened the kiss, his tongue twisting slow and merciless against Steve’s. His hands loosened, almost cradling Steve’s neck instead of holding him, and just as Steve thought he wouldn’t be able to take anymore without climbing in through the bloody window and straddling him, Billy pulled away. 

They stared at each other, chests heaving and eyes wide. 

“See you tomorrow, Harrington.” Billy said finally, not even bothering to hide how breathless his voice was or the flush on his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, backing away as Billy started the engine. “Tomorrow.”

The Camaro tore away, and Steve walked back to his car, leaning against the hood as his heart rate slowed and the sound of the Camaro’s engine faded into the distance. Something important had happened, something apart from the kiss, but he couldn’t lay a finger on it. Couldn’t pinpoint the facts through the overwhelming tide of emotions he was finally allowing himself to feel. 

It wasn’t until he was nearly home, the stars winking into existence above him one by one, that he realized what it was; it was dark, and he wasn’t afraid. 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone knows where the title is from, you'll also know who I'm currently obsessed with listening to and who will undoubtedly play a cameo in my next non-series fic, because I've just realized the timelines match and if I can't use Stranger Things to live out my 1989 concert fantasies, then what can I do...


End file.
